


prove yourself

by toddykun



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon), The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: Fighting, Gen, José protecting his friends with black magic, Love, Magic, My Disneyfied Interpretation of Brazilian "Black Magic", Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, black magic, can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic, they love each other so much guys i cant uuuugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toddykun/pseuds/toddykun
Summary: José have never lost his cool, have never felt so mad, but there was always a first time for everything. And this was Donald too, how could he stay quiet? Through gritted teeth he declared, pettiness and love fighting in his heart, his spirit determined and his golden tongue running out and putting down his fears: “Back up. I’ve never done this before, but I can’t sit by and not try.”Based onthis postby the amazingbamboozledeaglein tumblr. Yay!





	prove yourself

**Author's Note:**

> [[First posted 11/15/2018 on Tumblr](http://toddy-does.tumblr.com/post/180149407453/based-on-this-post-by-the-amazing-bamboozledeagle)]
> 
> i honestly have no control over myself because i should be like, writing for my 48429423 wips and instead i keep writing for new stuff lmao but come on! it was about josé!! and black magic!!!! and bamb posted it!!!!!!!!!!! how could i resist? also, since i started researching about brazilian black magic and religions linked to it, i want to write about josé using his magic combined to that so yeah that

José had never felt his chest so tight in his life, had never felt his heart beating against his ribcage so hard. So close, he had been so close,  _why the hell that old miser-?_

The cry of a group of voices woke him out of his own self-loathing. Donald’s petrified scared face looking at him, the kids clinging to him like for dear life, the mumbles and the cries of “Uncle Donald!” stopped his heart for a moment.

Huey was the first one to turn at him. “Is it too late?!”

He didn’t know what to respond. He didn’t have the time anyway, because Dewey was next. “You can turn him back, right?!”

Louie cried, holding so tight at Donald’s feet. José felt his hands starting to tremble. “Please!”

“Kids, I-I-.”

Webby interrupted him, crying too. “There must be something you can do!”

Scrooge screamed from his fight. Apparently, free enough of the fight with Magica to be an asshole to him but not to help his nephews and niece’s hearts. “Stop asking him, that lowly witch conman! Who knows what he could really do? Finish Donald up for good?”

Like Donald wasn’t already screwed because of him. His soft and warm feathers replaced with cold stone.

José have never lost his cool, have never felt so mad, but there was always a first time for everything. And this was Donald too, how could he stay quiet? Through gritted teeth he declared, pettiness and love fighting in his heart, his spirit determined and his golden tongue running out and putting down his fears: “Back up. I’ve never done this before, but I can’t sit by and not try.” All the kids took a step back immediately, like  _something_  has actually pushed them to do the action, their eyes never left Donald’s figure but they did look surprised at themselves for doing it so fast and without thinking.

 _“Wherever you are, vovó. I really, really need your help right now. And your Egums, they too, if they can help to guide me.”_ He thought, looking at the side, his umbrella on the floor not so near him.

José closed his eyes for a moment, looking for calm within himself and opened them with resolution. His soul vibrated with his vovó’s voice over all those lessons and her nights in Bahia, a particular ritual that she taught him came to his mind. José rolled up his sleeves and threw his hat to the floor. “I need water, dirt, one cigar, and my umbrella.”

_“Freeing someone is a little simple but you can’t just do it like it’s nothing. Like with everything with black magic, you need to be meticulous and trusting, no mistakes or you will result with something completely different from what you wanted.” His granny said while gathering candles, cigars and a rose to use for her enchantments. Little José followed her around the house with a curious expression._

_“From what I could free someone, vovó?”_

_“Oh, from so much. Black magic is infinite like that. Now pay attention-”_

The kids ran to retrieve the things really fast. His umbrella was vibrating from its place on the ground, like every time he knew he needed to use it. He tried to take it as a good omen to not felt more nervous.

Dewey retrieved the umbrella, Webby brought his jacket that he had lost and was ripped in one side, taking out his box of cigars. Huey brought him water. Louie never left Donald’s side since they were in an earthy terrain and he didn’t need to retrieve anything (and leave Donald).

Magica was the first one to react when José started working, forgetting Scrooge for a moment, chills going through her body. She had felt this type of magic before. It was one of the most powerful types of black magic if used correctly since it needed to be extremely meticulous about it, and someone here was using it. She turned around to see José, sleeves rolled up and sweating out of nervousness, destroying one of his cigars over his umbrella and mumbling a chant under his breath that none of them understood. But Scrooge was sure he had never seen Magica so frightened before.

“Stop!” Magica threw herself over there, Scrooge took one of her feet and threw her to the other way. Scrooge gritted his teeth, feeling torn between his beliefs, but whatever he was doing was scaring Magica so it couldn’t be good for _her_.

He didn’t want to. But Donald… “I don’t know what you’re doing, lad! But it better be good!” José felt his head riling at his voice.

_“Never lost resolve,” he heard in his granny’s voice, “and forgive even if you don’t think is necessary. Exu is the one in charge of justice, not you. Also, why would you lost your time like that?”_

_“He is family, he doesn’t know how to be part of one but he is. He still tries sometimes. I still love him.” He heard this time, it sounded like Donald, it sounded hurt but forgiving._

José needed to take a breath to still himself but nodded at Scrooge anyways. He painted some symbols in his arms, his face and in the canopy of the umbrella with the mix of the cigar, the dirt and the water he made. His entire attire was dirty now and he had never felt more sweated in his life. But it was going to be worth it, it  _needed_  to be worth it.

Nobody could say José Carioca wasn’t a hard worker when it was really needed.

_“If you’re doing a ritual to free someone, no matter of what,” his vovó said one day, whatever mix she was making smelled like candles and brigadeiros and made José scrunch his face. “Remember to plead to those above. They’re always listening, especially your personal deity, in this particular type of black magic we-”_

_“What if I don’t believe in them?”_

_His vovó scoffed but answered. “They’re going to help you anyways because you hoped for it. And if they don’t, you just plead to me. I will be always there for you, meu pequeno. Now, like I was saying-”_

José closed his eyes, feeling warm and tremble that his  _–her–_  umbrella always gave off when he was about to play it, he felt the ghost features of a flute in his beak and his fingers. A familiar energy running through his veins like every time he played it since the day his granny gave it to him.

_“First, comes Olódùmarè-“_

He whispered against the handle. “…for all three that he is and so they created all of us…” and he took a graceful step to the left, like a dance. Magica screamed, he heard Scrooge screaming too. He heard weeping too, kids’ weeping.

_“Then comes your deity-”_

His other foot crossed over the other while he whispered: “…for I am them, and they are me.” He never really knew who exactly was his deity, but sometimes, José forgot who he was so it was fair. He just hoped they didn’t answer as well as he did to things.

_“Then comes Exu-”_

He twirled around, he felt the graze of rock through his revealed arms and over the clothes. He was sure he was in front of Donald now. His heart started to run a mile, he tried to calm it down. Magica groaned and pleaded in the background, maybe scared at his words, if she knew what he was doing,  _she should be_. “…for I seek justice over those who deserve it.”

_“Then comes Pomba Gira.”_

_“Why her? Isn’t she for love and those things?”_

_“Exactly, because you have to trust, José. And trust comes from love. You need to love whoever you’re freeing. Do think you could love them?”_

And, oh he loved. José felt his heart tight, and his eyes burning. He loved since the day he felt white and red soft feathers against his green ones. He loved since the day he laughed freer than anybody else. He loved since the day someone saw through the suave persona and the conman and saw something to genuinely love in him. He loved Donald, who was all that and more. So, he trusted.

“To Pomba Gira, for him who I love more than anything else. Please, I beg you with my life. Free him.”

And with that final plead, he hit the first note and started the real dance. His heart soared with the sound, the melody came naturally to him and so did the steps, like he had always played it even if it was the first time in his life that he himself had heard something like this or danced to it. He felt burning in his arms and in his face, exactly what he expected and heard a feminine and frustrated scream. He heard a “No!” coming from behind him, but he couldn’t stop nor lost concentration, that was the tricky thing with black magic. You couldn’t make mistakes nor couldn’t you doubt yourself nor the deities.

“What the hell is he doing?! Dancing and playing?!”

“Not now, Uncle Scrooge! Just keep stopping Magica!”

“No, that stupid parrot-!” José was sure he heard a cane being hit against somebody’s skull but he could be wrong, of course.

“Come on, Uncle Zé! Keep going!”

And José did. His feet started to hurt and he was getting tired of playing the same melody over and over. Maybe the deities didn’t care after all.

Until he heard a crack, and he wanted to open his eyes to confirm his suspicions,  _but trust_ , he reminded himself. The crack only fueled him to play with more enthusiasm. He heard happy gasps and a little-overjoyed cry, and a large succession of cracks and he stopped playing and dancing, he turned around, hoping he didn’t stop too soon. From the cracks in Donald’s statue light started to spill. José gulped, sweat dripping down his feathers.  _Please, vovó, don’t abandon me now, please, please, please, please-_

All the cracks fell to the floor around Donald and he fell to the floor with a bam too, blinking owlishly in front of him as he tried to regain some consciousness into this world, he tried to get up and say something, only for the kids to tackle him to the ground with bear hugs and laughs. Donald hugged them in return, happy if not a little confused.

José felt so exhausted but so accomplished. He was never going to use this type of black magic ever again, too much work. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his breath, until he felt two arms that he knew perfectly, lifting him up and hugging him out of nowhere. “José!”

José returned the hug, almost by inertia. Too happy and too tired to say something more than his name in return. “Donal’!”

“You did it! I knew you will!”

“You…You did?”

Donald just smiled. He trusted him. Well, that was another kind of magic that helped a little, if José had anything to say about it. The kids bounced around them, happily attaching themselves to Donald and José.

“Curse me kilts! Magica!”

All of them turned around. Scrooge gaped at the figure and the kids gasped, Donald blinked surprised and José needed to admit that he laughed. The Deities worked in funny ways, and vovó was right, Deities did respond no matter what, they have their own sense of humor though.

That bragging woman was now cold and hard stone. Like her heart too, probably. She looked like she had been throwing a temper tantrum it seemed. Well, justice and all that jazz.

 _Thanks, Exu, and thanks, vovó_ , he thought, giggling under his breath at the sight of the kids touching the statue and Scrooge not getting out of his surprise.

“How did you did that?” José turned around to see Donald with a smile, he sounded confused but amused all the same, he never let go of the embrace. José shrugged, not even he knew exactly how that happened. The only thing he knew was what he did for the enchantment. The aftereffects? Not so much. “And is she going to get out of it?”

“No idea. That was  _Exu_ , I think, you could say he is some kind of deity of justice, I…I will explain later. The type of black magic I use is kind of complicated.” He ended saying, flashbacks of Vovó and her histories going for hours just a day.

Donald laughed, amused. He hugged him harder. “José?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving me.”

José smiled, his heart singing. “For you? Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> posting and running, posting and running, my good friends
> 
> also, if you wanna read about my hcs for jose's black magic, umbrella and childhood, consider reading [my fic: ellos dicen we're birds of uma pena](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608080) were i explain a little?? i gues?? lmao
> 
> hope u enjoyed it!!!! 
> 
> come bother me if u want to:  
> [my writing and art tumblr](http://toddy-does.tumblr.com/)  
> [my personal tumblr](http://toddy-kun.tumblr.com/)  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/toddywithcereal)


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